Two Strokes of Midnight
by Glisseo
Summary: Lily is dreading spending New Year's Eve at a family party - and seeing in the new year with her sister's vile fiancé. Fortunately, James is quite adept at taking matters into his own hands.


To Lily, it seemed most unfair that a year which had treated her quite kindly – seeing her become Head Girl and begin a very happy relationship just in the last few months alone – should end so miserably.

Her parents were calling it a party, but Lily felt there had never been a word less appropriate. A whole night spent not only with her rarely-seen Muggle relatives – all under the impression that she, too, was a Muggle, which meant remembering the various lies they had been fed about her life over the years – but her sister, too, and her sister's fiancé, both of whom knew perfectly well that Lily was not a Muggle, and despised her for it.

**_Can't you get out of it?_**James had asked her as soon as she'd written to gripe about the fate that had befallen her. **_We're going into London for midnight. Should be good. You should come!_**__

Stomach aching with jealousy, Lily had reluctantly responded.  
_No can do. Mum and Dad are being unusually strict on this one. Suppose they're wanting one last family New Year bash while Petunia still deigns to spend time with us._

And she did appreciate the sentiment – after all, in June she would be leaving school and stepping full-time into a world her parents knew very little of, and Petunia would be marrying Vile Vernon and – Lily assumed – giving up her soul as part of the deal. But she couldn't help but feel that beginning 1978 in such a lousy way did not bode well for the coming year.

_Nobody_, she wrote in a particularly grumpy letter to James the day before the party, _should have to begin the new year with Vernon bloody Dursley._

Her boyfriend's reply was very unsympathetic and entirely characteristic, but it did at least make her smile.

**_It might not be so bad. Who knows – when you've had a bit too much champagne, as I know you are liable to doing, you might find yourself enjoying it … perhaps you'll even become engaged in conversation with Vernon bloody Dursley and free yourself of your harsh conceptions about him and discover, as the clock strikes midnight, that he could in fact be your soulmate ….._**__

You'll be sorry if that does happen, Lily replied at once, but there was no response from James for the rest of the day, and she woke on New Year's Eve feeling dejected and rather lonely, despite the trickle of relatives slowly filling the house with noise and movement. She shut herself in her room, knowing she would seem rude but not particularly caring – she wanted to spend as little time as possible with a fake smile pasted on her face, lying through her teeth. James, she supposed, was busy with Sirius and the others, looking forward to midnight. She gazed down at the grey street outside and imagined fireworks exploding in the air over Big Ben, reflecting in the Thames … she had never spent New Year's Eve in a city, but she thought it must be wonderful: all those people, the excitement that surely must be contagious … a special kind of Muggle magic.

As evening drew in, the trickle of guests grew to a steady stream, and shortly before eight, a slamming of car doors accompanied by a loud, orotund voice announced the arrival of Vernon and Petunia. Lily suppressed a sudden urge to hide in the attic. Some time after, there was a soft tap on her bedroom door, and her mother's head appeared around it, swiftly followed by her body.

"You're not dressed!" she said at once. Lily looked down at her comfiest, holiest old jumper and worn jeans.

"Odd," she remarked, "these _look _like clothes –"

"Lily, love, I really don't have time for wisecracks," her mother sighed. She folded her arms across her pretty green dress and appraised her daughter with a scrutiny bordering on the offensive.

"You look nice, Mum," said Lily truthfully.

"You don't," her mother responded bluntly. "It's gone half eight and you're not even changed yet. People are wondering where you are." She moved to Lily's wardrobe as she spoke, flinging open the doors with unwarranted force and starting to flick through the clothes hanging there. "You must have a nice dress _somewhere_, it can't just be robes …"

"Robes," Lily informed her, "come in far handier than nice dresses when you're brewing potions and -"

Her mum cut her off with a warning look. "None of that talk downstairs, all right? I know you find it terribly hard not to wind Petunia up but for my sake, love – behave tonight, won't you?"

Feeling slightly guilty – it couldn't be easy dealing with two daughters who could hardly bear the sight of each other – Lily said, "all right, I'll behave."

"Good. Aha!" her mum cried triumphantly, yanking a dress from the depths of the wardrobe. She thrust it at Lily, who examined it with some trepidation. It was blue, rather plain, with cut-off sleeves and a swishy skirt.

"I don't remember buying this," she commented, holding it up against herself.

"I don't think you did. We put some of your nan's old things in there when there was no space in the attic, do you remember? I think this was one of hers." Her mum smiled. "You've the same build, it'll fit you just fine, and that blue will look lovely with your hair." The smile vanished abruptly as she glanced at her watch. "I'd better get back downstairs – you get dressed and come down _as soon as you're ready!" _The last few words with issued with a stern pointed finger, and then she was gone.

Lily peeled off her comfortable clothes and put on the dress. It wasn't half bad, she mused, pulling her hair up to see it better. Her mum was right, the deep blue set off her dark red hair nicely. Then she imagined some sleazy uncle or cousin commenting on that fact, and shuddered as she reached for her lipstick.

The party seemed to be in full swing by the time she made her way downstairs, her dad's records playing at full blast and people milling between the kitchen and living room, obviously already a bit worse for wear. Lily was accosted before she could set foot in either one: her mother's elder sister grabbed her hands and yanked her closer with a cry of delight.

"Lily! Oh, don't you look lovely, so grown-up – doesn't she look grown-up, Alan? Goodness, it's been years since I saw you last, you'll have to catch me up, what have you been up to at that posh school of yours? I said to Alan, I said, well, I weren't surprised when our Lily got a scholarship, always brainy she were –"

"Yes," said Lily faintly, not entirely sure there had been a question but already desperate to break free. "Yes, it's great, thank you."  
She spotted her dad over her aunt's shoulder, carrying a tray of champagne glasses. Freedom – and alcohol – beckoned.  
"Excuse me," she mumbled, and hurried away, hoping her aunt wouldn't be too put out at her disappearance. She caught her dad's arm as he turned into the kitchen.

"Hello there, Tiger Lily," he greeted her cheerfully. "Enjoying yourself?"

Lily grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray and took a deep swig.

"I'll take that as a no," said her dad bemusedly. "Only three hours 'til midnight, though!"

"Three hours?" Lily groaned, and emptied her glass.

- - -

An hour and a half later found Lily, as James had predicted, with Vile Vernon – but far from dismissing her previous impressions of him, Lily was becoming more and more unimpressed by the minute. Vernon's party trick appeared to be boring the pants off whoever was unfortunate enough to become trapped in conversation with him. He had been talking about his car for over ten minutes now; Lily, unaided by the champagne she'd been pilfering, was almost asleep. By contrast, Petunia, standing proudly by her fiancé, looked positively enraptured. It was infuriating.

"… upholstery like you've never seen before," Vernon was saying. "Seats are almost worth more than the whole car put together, if you can believe it!"

"No," said Lily, becoming suddenly alert at the sign of the monologue coming to an end. "No, I can't. It sounds … it sounds _magical._"

Petunia flinched.

"If anyone else told me that, I'd have said they were away with the _fairies_," Lily continued, emboldened by her sister's reaction. "Come on, it can't be true – a car that magnificent …"

"It is!" Vernon boomed, none the wiser, as Petunia turned vermilion. "No word of a lie."

"It can't be," Lily persisted. "No, I don't believe you, although you did have me going for a _spell_. A car like that sounds simply too _wizard _to be true."

This time, her emphasis wasn't lost on Vernon, who frowned and began gruffly, "now, hold on a minute …"

"Lily!"

Struggling to hide a grin, Lily turned. Her mother had appeared from nowhere – though Lily had a strong suspicion that she had overheard Lily's last few words, a hunch confirmed when she said sharply, "a word!"

The doorbell pealed loudly. Lily couldn't have timed it better herself. Delighted, she exclaimed, "I'll get it!" and ran for safety. She had no doubt that Petunia would waste no time in vilifying her behaviour to their mother, but she couldn't feel very guilty: it had been fun, something this party was severely lacking …  
She pushed through the assembled guests to the hall and yanked open the front door.

"Hello," said James.

Lily blinked. No, she wasn't seeing things: James Potter was very definitely on her doorstep, as lanky and unkempt as she remembered him, leaning against the front door in a manner that suggested he had done so a hundred times before.

"You can stop staring any time now," he continued; a flash of uncertainty crossed his face and he seemed suddenly self-conscious, as if questioning whatever reason lay behind his appearance on Lily's doorstep at quarter to eleven on New Year's Eve. "And maybe … say something?"

"I think," Lily began, and then realised she didn't know what she thought, or if indeed she thought anything at all. She stopped abruptly, gathered some composure, and then said, "what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in London –"

"Not until midnight. I thought you and I might take a stroll," James went on. "If that's all right with you. I'll have you back by midnight, I promise."

"A stroll?" Lily repeated.

"An excursion, a jaunt … a frolic, perhaps," James allowed. "What do you say?"

Lily barely hesitated. "Stay there," she ordered, and turned on her heel, letting the door swing shut behind her. She dashed through to the kitchen and skidded to a halt in front of her mother, who – Lily was displeased to find – was still talking to Petunia and Vernon.

"There you are," her mum frowned. "Who was at the door?"

"James," said Lily breathlessly. She crossed her fingers behind her back and carried on, "Mum, would it be all right if I just went for a walk with him? Just for a bit? I'll be back for midnight –"

"Preposterous!" Vernon barked. Lily ignored him; fortunately, her mother did too.

"You'll just go for a walk? You won't go far?"

"No."

"And you'll be back for midnight?"

"Yes."

"Well, as long as you're sensible, I can't see why not," said her mother. Petunia looked as if she'd been slapped, but Lily thought the reasoning behind the decision was probably that Lily couldn't cause trouble if she wasn't there. Still, she'd take it.

"Thanks, Mum!"

"Take a coat!" her mother yelled after her as she raced out of the kitchen. Back in the hall, she grabbed her warmest coat from the peg before pulling the door open again. James looked amused.

"OK?" he checked.

"I'm all yours," said Lily enthusiastically. The sly grin that James gave her in response made her stomach flutter. She put on her coat and stepped out into the night, the cold relieving some of the light-headedness borne of too much champagne.

"So," she continued brightly, "in which direction should we stroll? Or frolic. None of the options are particularly seemly, but –"

"Ah," James interrupted. He was fiddling with the bridge of his glasses, a gesture Lily had come to associate with nerves. "About that. Er – we might be venturing a little further afield than I let on. You don't mind Apparating, do you?"

"No …" Lily's mind was racing. Where was he taking her? "I'm not very good at it, though."

"That's all right. I know where we're going." He didn't seem in any hurry to share this information with Lily; instead, he started walking briskly down the street, indicating that Lily should follow him. He stopped at the corner of Lily's road and held out his hand. Feeling oddly nervous, Lily took it.

She emerged, gasping, from the compressing darkness, completely disorientated; it took her a few moments to adjust to her surroundings, and when she did, all she could see was an enormous, palatial building looming high above her, ghostly white against the night sky. Even more confused, she spun around to find James – and stopped, stunned.

They were standing at the top of a hill, beyond which stretched, for miles and miles, the lights of an enormous city, golden in the dark. Lily felt as if she had been hit by something very heavy; dazed, she turned to James, whose glasses were reflecting the twinkling lights.

"Where are we?" she gasped.

"Montmartre," said James, looking very pleased with himself. He raised a hand and pointed into the distance; Lily squeaked as she recognised the Eiffel Tower. "Paris."

"Paris," Lily repeated faintly. "We're in _Paris_." She shook her head, attempting to clear the haze that had crept in; she could not quite believe that this wasn't some sort of mad dream. "But – _why?_"

James grinned. "'Nobody should have to begin the new year with Vernon bloody Dursley,'" he quoted. "I thought you made a good point. So … you won't. You'll begin it with me, if that sounds like a better alternative."

"But … oh. France is one hour ahead," Lily realised. How clever. How very James. She wondered if he would ever cease to amaze her, and then, fiercely, hoped that he wouldn't.

"I know you wanted to see in the new year in London," said James, "but I couldn't manage that, so I thought this was the next best thing."

"Only for you would _Paris _be the next best thing," Lily snorted. "You really don't do things by halves, do you?"

"I try not to." He flashed her a quick, shy smile, one that was very different to the trademark James Potter grin, but Lily noticed that his eyes crinkled in just the same way. "Maybe next year we can do this in London. Together."

A faint glimmer of hesitancy crept into his voice as he spoke of the future they had not yet discussed, the future that Lily suddenly felt with great certainty would happen.

"I'd like that."

She moved closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Nearly midnight," he murmured, just as distant, unintelligible chanting began far below. Lily breathed in his warm, comforting scent and gazed out at the brilliant lights of Paris. She felt like she was floating, standing here so high above this spectacular city; none of it seemed real, except James.

A clock chimed loudly, disembodied cheering and clapping rang out, and fireworks erupted high in the sky, illuminating the skyline, crackling and booming and filling the night with magnificent, riotous colour. Heart pounding, Lily looked at James and whispered, "Happy New Year."

He kissed her soundly, sending blood rushing to her face and making her feel as if more fireworks had been set off in her chest.

"Happy New Year."


End file.
